Hi, I have just discovered yet another amazing site. This is for women to re-connect with their inner goddess to become creative in their art, writing, business skills. There are different forums to connect to like minded women, loads of freebies available to download to help you set goals and follow through. Leonnie Dawson is the creator of "The Goddess Circle", she actively encourages women to share, support & speak their truth. It is a very caring, safe sight. She has published many e-books and e-courses to help transform your lives & business. She truely loves what she does & inspires you to follow the many different paths available. So, if you want to sparkle, shine, sprinkle fairy dust, get creative, learn, grow & develop spiritually, this is definitely the place to visit.
I have downloaded her wonderful 2012 workbook and calender -yes I know we are half way through the year, but the words & artwork are beautiful. Leonnie has provided a variety of meditations, which I'm going off to listen to shortly.

If this is somewhere you would like to visit, stay, rest, recuperate, check it out: http://tinyurl.com/c9b9mzt

Until next time  June x

A Bus called Eleanor.

A Bus called Eleanor.

A few years I was told an eerie story about an old fashioned double-decker bus, the type where you hopped on the back and the driver had a separate compartment.

A business man was a collector of old cars and liked to fix them up in his spare time. He had heard a red London double-decker bus had become available to buy down here in Cornwall. This had been a long-held secret ambition that he would eventually track down this type of bus. He would call it “Lady Eleanor”.

The man travelled down to Cornwall on a train, getting off at Truro, where he was met by the current owner of the bus, who fortuitously happened to also be a taxi driver. They travelled out of Truro into the country-side then down some country lanes until he came to a farm with a large barn. The owner used his barn to store vintage vehicles, of which he had a fairly large collection.

The bus was in one corner of the barn on it’s own, which the man thought odd, but didn’t make anything of it. As he looked around, he could see a variety of other vehicles grouped together in other areas of the barn. The bus had been given a good clean, with the number 13 Oxford Circus on the front.

“I think I’ve finally found my Lady Eleanor” the man said, excitedly rubbing his hands together. The man noticed the owner and one of his workers looking at each other, then at him, in a strange way. Before he could comment on this, there was suddenly a resounding crash. Startled, the man asked what the noise was. The three men walked behind where the bus was parked. Their ears were still ringing with the noise.

On the floor , lay a large concrete slab, which apparently had stood against the wall for years. The owner looked at the potential buyer and said that they had better have a talk in his office. He felt the man would probably not want to buy it when he heard the full story.

The bus had had a long and colourful past. It seemed to have a higher portion of different drivers and conductors than other buses. Nobody ever seemed to like working on this bus for very long. It had a habit of breaking down at busy times, causing a huge amount of commotion, then starting up without any apparent reason to why it had stopped. The bus had been part of several road traffic accidents. Drivers had said in reports that they felt the bus had pulled out suddenly, as if on its own and had hit other vehicles.

The worst incident that had happened was that in the late 1950’s or early 1960’s, the bus had been the cause of 2 pedestrian fatalities. A mother and her daughter had been waiting at a bus-stop for the number 13.

The bus had been driving without any recent problems, for once they were running to time. As the driver started turning towards the bus-stop, instead of slowing down, the bus started accelerating. The driver panicked and braked, the bus still moved at speed, the driver used the hand-brake, causing the bus to skid. With horror the driver realised he was going to hit the queue of people at the bus-stop. Most of the people scattered, but the woman and her child at the front of the queue appeared rooted to the spot. The mother then grabbed her child and started to turn away. Tragically she moved to late and was hit by the bus skidding sideways. They were both taken to hospital, but died in hospital. The woman’s name was June. Her daughter’s name was Eleanor.

Why this story is particularly eerie for me, is that the person telling me what had happened at his friend’s farm, was saying I ought to go and see this bus to see what I could pick up from it.

 I felt all the hairs on my neck go up, I had tuned into the story as it was being told. I was shown an image of a tall thin woman in a light coloured rain mac with a scarf tied around her head, holding her little girl’s hand, who looked about 6 years old . There was the sound of a  door slamming shut, which made us both jump.

“I can’t visit this bus, the lady who was killed is very angry that she had died with her daughter. I think I would be putting myself at risk if I went there. My name is June Eleanor.”

This story still gives me the creeps. It reminds me of an ‘80’s film about an evil car called “Christine”.

I don’t know what happened to the bus, s I never attempted to visit or find out .

June Bentley-Mackay

7/6/2012